


Birthday Season Celebration

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 21:23:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15494979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: Draco places his faith in the right person.





	Birthday Season Celebration

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for Slythindor100's prompt # 219: Harry's birthday, and for Enchanted_jae's Monthly Drabble Challenge # 149: season, shift, soft, sprawl, squirm.
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Birthday Season Celebration

~

“’Tis the season to be jolly—”

Draco, sprawled on the sofa under a soft, green throw, looked up from his book to frown at Pansy. “In case you missed it, it’s summer. What on earth are you doing singing a Christmas song?” 

Pansy smirked at him. “You celebrate the season your way, and I’ll celebrate it mine.” 

“ _What_ season?” 

“Like you don’t know? Potter season, of course!” 

Draco gave her a blank look. 

“Oh for…” Shaking her head, Pansy pointed to the shared eighth-year calendar which hung over their common room mantel. “Look. Right there! Next week is Harry Potter’s—”

“Birthday.” Draco groaned. “Merlin, Circe, and Morgana, this is going to be a nightmare.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Draco shot her a flat look. “Think about it! All the tons of gifts he’ll be getting, all the younger students throwing themselves at him—”

“Not just the younger ones,” murmured Pansy.

Ignoring her, Draco continued. “I need to get out of here. I’m sure Mother would like to see me—” 

“What a pity you can’t leave.” Pansy hummed. “You agreed to help me with Arithmancy this weekend, remember? So no sudden trips home for you.” Leaning down, she whispered, “You’re finally going to have to do something about your crush on him.” 

Looking away from her all-too-perceptive eyes, Draco muttered, “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” 

Pansy hummed. “What I’m referring to, darling, is the fact you fancy the pants off Potter, he makes you squirm in all the right ways, and if you play your Gobstones right, you may get a fabulous present for his birthday.” 

Draco frowned. “It’s his birthday, why would I get a gift?” 

Pansy leered suggestively. “Use your imagination, Draco. Can’t you think of something to give him that would be a gift to yourself, too?” 

“You are foul,” Draco huffed, but Merlin help him, his overly vivid imagination (already working overtime because, well, _Potter_ ) began supplying helpful mental images of mutually beneficial things he could offer Potter. When his cock started to harden, Draco shifted uncomfortably. 

“What I am is _right_ ,” said Pansy. “Anyway, I’m off to help Weasley and Granger plan a party for him.” 

Draco stared at her. “You’re friends with Weasley and Granger now?” 

Pansy snorted. “As if.” She winked. “But Weasley’s bum isn’t bad, and now that he’s a war hero…” 

Rolling his eyes, Draco watched her leave, then hummed. Maybe it would behove him to get Potter something for his birthday. And maybe, if his luck was with him, Potter could in turn be _his_ gift.

* * *

Diagon Alley was a bust, as was Muggle London (Draco wasn’t a above a trip to Harrods if the occasion called for it). Finally, he did the one thing he’d hoped to not do, he consulted his mother.

“A gift?” Narcissa raised an eyebrow. Even through the Floo, Draco sensed her curiosity. “For whom, darling?” 

“A…friend.” Draco exhaled. He’d always been pants at lying to his mother. “Someone who could become more perhaps.” 

“Oh. A beau.” Narcissa smiled. “That’s wonderful! And who is this potential beau? Do we know them?” 

Draco smiled. “Always so careful. It’s a man, and…everyone knows him.” 

“Ah. I thought as much.” Narcissa pursed her lips. “I’d be of more help if I had a name, though.” 

Draco cleared his throat. “I’d rather not say in case the whole thing falls to pieces. Plus,” he smiled tightly, “I’m not sure Father would approve.” 

“Of course.” Narcissa inclined her head. “Well, since you’re trying to impress this potential beau, perhaps a bit more research is order? Nothing generic will do, I imagine he’ll be getting gifts for many others, so yours will need to stand out.” 

Draco nodded. “Exactly. But what could that be?” 

“Well, what does he like?” 

“Quidditch. Treacle tarts. Pumpkin juice.” Draco shrugged. “But those are generic things. I need something _personal_.” 

Narcissa nodded. “Personal but not too personal. It’s a fine line to walk, darling. This may require a practiced hand.” 

“Which is why I’m calling you.” 

Narcissa smiled, clearly pleased. “Why thank you! All right, I have a few ideas, but they’re not for anything you can purchase. May I have your leave to make some inquires before telling you my thoughts?” 

“You’re going to talk to Father, aren’t you?” sighed Draco. 

“I’m afraid I must, if what I have in mind is to work. Trust me, darling.” And blowing him a kiss, Narcissa closed the connection. 

Draco sighed. This could either go phenomenally wrong or spectacularly right.

* * *

The day before Potter’s birthday dawned and it was gloomy and overcast, exactly like Draco’s mood. Having not heard anything from his mother, he’d even, in his desperation, gone shopping in Hogsmeade, and had found nothing. He had even resorted to looking through his own possessions for something special enough to give to Potter, and had come up empty. 

All day people were chatting excitedly about what they planned to do for Potter the following day. Merlin, even Blaise had got him something, and he didn’t normally give birthday presents. 

Potter, in the meantime, seemed oblivious. He chatted with Granger and Weasley, congratulated Longbottom on his birthday, and generally seemed his usual self. Except, in the evening, Draco saw him watching the clock.

At about eleven, Draco, who’d been lying in bed awake, heard something pop at the foot of his bed. Sitting up, he saw Bippy, his mother’s house-elf. “Bippy? What are you doing here?” 

Bippy held out a package, already wrapped, a bright red bow on it. “Mistress sends her regards and expresses her apologies it took her so long. She says to tell Master Draco this should get you your beau. She also says to tell him, when he asks, that this was Master Lucius’ hobby in school.” 

And with that, and before Draco could ask the elf anything, he left with another pop. 

Staring at the package, Draco sighed. “Great,” he muttered, turning it over in his hands. “Now I have a gift, but I’ve no idea what it is. Salazar.” 

Groaning, Draco collapsed back onto his pillow, still holding the gift. He was just beginning to drift off when he heard whispering. 

Sitting up, he parted his curtains in time to see Potter and Weasley slip out. Curious, he Summoned his dressing gown and, slipping the gift into a pocket, stole out after them.

As it turned out, they hadn’t gone far. They were seated in the common room, and as he watched he saw Granger, Lovegood, and Longbottom were already there waiting. 

They chatted, Longbottom pulling out something that looked suspiciously like elf wine, while Lovegood produced some biscuits and Granger placed a dish of cheese on the table. 

When the clock struck midnight, they all froze staring at it, and the moment the last bell and tolled, they began pulling out wrapped gifts. 

Draco watched what seemed like some sort of ritual. Potter opened the gifts, exclaimed over them and hugged the giver. At about twenty past midnight, the common room door opened and in strode Hagrid, who pulled a misshapen cake out of his coat pocket. “Happy birthday, Harry!” he whisper-shouted. 

Draco had to admire the rapidity with which Granger put up a Silencing Charm. Fortunately, his position was within the Charm’s perimeter, so he could still hear the festivities.

After Potter blew out the candles, Granger cut up the cake, and they all munched, chatting away. Potter looked…happy. Glowingly so, in fact. 

Draco bit his lip. For all the expensive, exclusive birthday parties he could remember, he didn’t recall one where he’d ever smiled that wide or looked that happy. 

Eventually, the party broke up. Hagrid left, which brought the noise level down considerably, and one by one, people drifted away until it was just the Golden Trio. 

Granger hugged Potter. “Happy birthday. Don’t stay up too late.” 

Potter chuckled. “I won’t. I promise. You two have a good night.” 

Weasley coughed. “I don’t know what you mean—”

Rolling his eyes, Potter shooed them away. “Go! I’m fine.” 

Watching them leave hand in hand, Draco smirked. So much for Pansy’s plans. 

“You can come out now,” said Potter, staring at the very spot Draco was hiding. 

Draco froze, his mind whirling. Should he tiptoe away? Show himself? Do nothing?

“I know you’re there, Malfoy. Come on out.” 

Moving slowly, Draco emerged from the stairs, entering the common room. “How did you know I was there?” 

Potter shrugged. “I’ve come to know whenever anyone’s watching me.” He smiled faintly. “I suspect it comes from having been on the run all those months in the war.” 

Swallowing hard, Draco shoved his hands in his dressing gown, his fingers encountering the gift he’d all but forgotten. “And how did you know it was me?” 

“Process of elimination. Most people would have watched for a while then left.” He chuckled. “Especially when Hagrid showed up.” 

Draco shuddered. “He was a bit loud.” 

Potter laughed. “Yeah, he doesn’t really know how to be quiet. Or subtle. Or how to keep a secret.” 

“Great friend,” Draco deadpanned. 

His expression sobering, Potter eyed Draco. “The best actually.” 

Draco nodded. “I’m sure. I wasn’t being—” He paused. “Actually, I _was_ being an arse. Sorry. I’m sure Hagrid’s a brilliant friend. He’s quite…sincere.” 

Slowly, Potter nodded. “He is.” He exhaled and started to gather up his things. “So, why did you stay?” 

His fingers closing over the gift, Draco hesitated. 

Potter raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?” 

“No, I just—” Draco huffed. “Fuck it.” Pulling the gift out, he presented it to Potter, whose mouth fell open in, frankly, adorable surprise. “Happy birthday.” 

Slowly, Potter took the present, handling it gingerly as if it could explode. “Wow.” He looked at it, then back at Draco. “I’m floored. You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to.” Draco kept his eyes on the floor. “Seemed only fair.” 

“Why? I didn’t get you anything for your birthday. Last month, wasn’t it?” 

Looking up and into Potter’s eyes, Draco nodded. “It was, yes.” He shrugged. “I…we all owe you. And it felt like the right thing to do.” 

After a long, searching look at Draco, Potter smiled and nodded. “Right, let’s see what this is.” He patted the sofa cushion beside him. “I’ll feel better if you’d sit down.” 

Draco did. “It won’t explode,” he said as Potter hesitated. 

Potter glanced at him. “I wasn’t thinking it would. At least, not until you said something.” 

Draco snorted. “Just open it, Potter. I want to see—”

“What? My reaction?” 

“Yes. Exactly.” Draco kept his hands tightly clasped in his lap as Potter pulled the paper off. His mother had never failed him when it came to gifts, but there was always a first time…

Inside was a small box. Opening it, Potter gasped. “How?” he breathed, pulling out some wizarding photographs of a red-haired woman smiling and waving. “Where did you get these?” 

Draco opened his mouth and nothing came out. 

“Malfoy! Seriously! How and where did you get these pictures of my mother?” 

Mouth working, Draco said, “I…I’m not—” He paused. What had Bippy said? “My father,” he said. “It was his hobby in school and he let me have these—”

Potter shook his head. “Your dad took pictures of my mother? That’s…creepy.” 

Draco bristled. “He took photographs of lots of people in school,” he snapped. “And he keeps everything. These are the relevant ones.” 

“Oh.” Potter picked up the second photograph to inspect it, his hands shaking. When he got to the bottom (there were twenty pictures in all, some even featuring both his parents) there were tears were streaming down his face. 

“Shit,” muttered Draco, his heart sinking. “I didn’t mean for…I only wanted to give you something meaningful—”

Wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, Potter stared at him. “Are you mad? This is possibly the best present I’ve ever received.” 

“Oh.” Draco exhaled. “Well good, then. I’ll just—”

“Malfoy,” said Potter, setting aside the box and pictures. “ _Draco_.” He leaned in, his eyes searching Draco’s. “Thank you. These are amazing.” 

“I…You’re welcome,” whispered Draco. 

Potter smiled. “You know, I’ve wondered about you.” He brought a hand up to cup Draco’s face.

Draco trembled at the touch but didn’t pull away. “Wh…what have you wondered?” 

Potter inhaled, his thumb tracing the shape of Draco’s lips. “It’s okay, I think I know the answer now.” 

“The answer to wh—?” Draco gasped as Potter’s lips pressed against his, his open mouth allowing Potter’s tongue inside. Not that he objected. Sliding his arms around Potter’s waist, he strained closer, his tongue meeting Potter’s in a delicious duel.

“Well,” gasped Potter after they broke for air. “That answers that. Definitely not straight.” 

Draco snorted softly, inhaling Potter’s scent. “Oh please. Like that’s a surprise? I’ve been bent since before I knew what the word meant.” 

Potter laughed softly, his fingers tangling in Draco’s hair. “It’s taken me a bit longer to figure it out.” 

Draco smirked. “Some of us are just smarter at that sort of thing.” He cleared his throat. “If you like I could…show you the ropes. You know, since it is your birthday.” 

“Wow,” said Potter, pulling back to look at him. “ _Two_ gifts?” He smiled. “How can possibly I turn down an offer like that?” 

Making quick work of gathering all Potter’ gifts (Potter slipped the box into his pocket) they stole their way back upstairs, Potter pulling Draco towards his bed. “It’s my birthday,” he whispered when Draco hesitated. “So it’s my bed."

Draco nodded. “Fair enough.” 

They crawled into Potter’s bed, closing the curtains. After kissing him again, Potter whispered, “Just let me just put my presents away, okay?”

Draco watched him, licking his lips as he contemplated what was to come. And, just because he couldn’t resist, he softly hummed a tune under his breath. 

Potter frowned over his shoulder at him. “That’s a Christmas carol. ‘Deck the Halls’, isn’t it?” 

Draco nodded. “Yes. Yes it is. Well spotted, Potter.” 

“Why are you singing a—?” Potter shook his head. “You are a puzzling man, Malfoy.” 

Draco smirked, leaning back so he was lounging on Potter’s pillows. “Time for you to unlock the puzzle, then, isn’t it?” he said, his tone challenging.

Climbing on top of him, Potter laughed. “Yes, I believe it is.” 

~


End file.
